


The Pheasant's Eye

by setsunasnow



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, Marichat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s03 Chat Blanc, Psychological Trauma, graphic depictions of panic attacks, marichat! marichat! maricha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setsunasnow/pseuds/setsunasnow
Summary: Predatory icy eyes studied her, no, peered through her- a smile disguised as mirth dawned on his face as he sauntered over. The chilled air pricked her skin, combing through her midnight pigtails like daggers through paper. She spotted the ever decaying moon, the devastated concrete below her......and her wonderful Chaton.The day after Chat Blanc, Marinette closes off from everyone. Adrien is worried about whatever happened to his dear friend and pays her a visit as Chat Noir. Not everything is as it seems.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 23
Kudos: 174





	1. silence.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i hope you enjoyed reading this ! i'm pretty new to writing fanfiction so i hope this is ok too hehe
> 
> kudos and comments are really appreciated !! thanks for reading!
> 
> thank you to ACBX24 for beta reading as well as cvrsity and silvermoonsky in the miraculous discord server for your advice !!

Marinette felt the terrain of a decimated wasteland slowly crumbling beneath her. Dreary blue eyes transfixed on the decaying moon; the starless sky, the silent ocean… The destroyed Paris.

“I gotta stand ready to jump back into time, in case you fail. Mwah!" Bunnyx said, jumping back into her burrow.

A black beret entered the corner of her eye, its threads falling at the seams as it lay on the concrete below. That simple gift. The start of it all, and the end.

_‘Ah.’_ an electric shock ran through her, _‘I did this.’_ There was no longer a need to bury the truth; she was the one who caused this, she remembers. The threads she’d weaved had now become undone, tangled once again.

Predatory icy eyes studied her, no, peered through her- a smile disguised as mirth dawned on his face as he sauntered over. The chilled air pricked her skin, combing through her midnight pigtails like daggers through paper. She spotted the ever decaying moon, the devastated concrete below her, and-

...and her wonderful Chaton.

“My lady, I thought you were gone! I was feline so lonely...”

Bile made its way up her throat, trying to tear its way through her mouth - to find any way that she could fix this. To beg for her Chaton’s forgiveness. To apologize for delivering that letter.  
It was all her fault.  
She desperately extended her hand, yearning for her Chaton’s touch. But her spotted gloves passed through his, white leather dissolving into grains of sand.

Her chest ached as it became harder to breathe. Tears trailed down her face as she turned towards her shaking hands, air escaping her in rapid succession as she sank further into the abyss.

Before she knew it, her knees collapsed onto the devastated concrete below, her entire world falling with her.

.

Marinette’s eyes blew open, chest heaving and shaking with every attempted breath. The noises around her amplified, ragged, choking sounds infiltrating her ears — was that her? She couldn’t even tell. Her head was clouded, as if it were a fogged window sprinkled with rain. She felt numb, her mind racing.

_“...Ma...ri-“_

Whose voice was that? The petite girl’s cries came out in stuttered sobs, shaking her body to the core. Sharp nails dug below her shoulders, hugging herself tighter and tighter, before it became too much.

_“Mari_...nette!”

“Marinette!”

Shaken from her reverie, she tried to focus on the red being in front of her. The tiny god sat in her lap, atop the girl’s plush covers.

Marinette’s eyes watered, and soon she let out a blood-curdling shriek, hands curled into fists, striking the mattress beneath her. The soft cushion that once propped her head now felt like iron lying on her chest, tightly curled into her body until the proximity was too much.

Tikki’s eyes were filled with concern, her tiny hands making their way up to Marinette’s face.

“Oh, Marinette...”

She couldn’t help it. Her hands flew to her face, and the weakness she yearned to show finally let loose. With the dam finally broken, she was gone.

.

Something was very wrong with Marinette, and it seemed everyone around her knew it, too.

There was no greeting as she reluctantly strode into class, no fresh home-made pastries or smiles, and most notably were her unusual interactions with her long-time crush; there were no dramatics, no stuttering or blushing, nor even recognition.

Even Adrien, oblivious as he may be, knew something was amiss. 

Marinette’s bluebell eyes gazed unseeing into the chalkboard, the teacher’s words sounding like gargled saltwater in her head. She could only focus on the visions of a decimated wasteland still dancing in her vision. 

A tap on her shoulder startled the girl from her musing, and it was only then did she realize the lunch bell rang.

“Girl… Are you okay?”

Greeted with warm honey eyes, foolishly, all Marinette could do was nod as she flashed a smile.

Marinette had a dam she needed to repair. She couldn’t allow her friends to bear the brunt of her burden. Although her mallet was only made of wood, she still had a job to do. So, she swallowed the bile that threatened to escape and picked up the hammer.

It didn’t go unnoticed. The way she smiled a bit too much, giggling at whatever jokes her friends made; even ones she’d normally roll her eyes at. It seemed no matter how much she tried, her companions sent looks of sympathy. Which, frankly, only made her feel even worse.

Finishing the rest of the day required more energy than she could produce in fifty years. Every step she made, her shoulders felt heavier, the burden growing unbearable on her tiny frame.

When the final bell rang, Marinette didn’t wait. Without a bid goodbye, she was gone.

.

The blond watched as his pigtailed friend grinned at the group, giving a wave that he knew was only for show: heartfelt, yet with no meaning.

Worry invaded his mind. Adrien cared deeply for the girl. As cute as her stuttering was, he knew there was more to her. He knew of her empathy towards everyone, even those who had wronged her. He knew of the smiles she brought to those around her. He knew of the words of affirmation she would normally offer to her peers, regardless of the situation. An impeccable leader, a great friend.

He knew she was an amazing girl, but her unusual behavior beckoned the question: What happened?

Eyebrows scrunched together, an idea struck Adrien like a bullet. Regardless of what duty calls, he’d make sure a certain local black cat landed on her balcony tonight.

And so he did.

The curtains of the sky shifted, as the clock struck ‘twelve. The crickets’ chimes could be heard across Paris, summer heat engulfing the starry night. In a stroke of bad luck, the poor blond’s day was even more packed than usual, with back-to-back photoshoots preventing him from visiting the girl sooner. From all the nights he visited as Chat Noir, however, he knew Marinette was quite the night owl and he silently hoped the designer was still awake.

Landing on the girl’s balcony with a ‘thud,’ Chat Noir scrambled to the trapdoor, rapping dulled by the protective glass.

He waited. Thirty seconds. A minute. Five. Sighing in defeat, he readied his staff. _‘It is late - she’s probably asleep by now.’_ he sighed.

Before he could vault onto the next rooftop, however, a shriek suddenly pierced his ears. Marinette?! Panicking, his gloved hands found their way to the handle of the trapdoor. He hastily flipped it open, the wood resounding with a dull ‘bang’ against the concrete wall. Only then, inside, did he find the source of the noise.

Marinette was shaking, curled in on herself as if she were a wilting violet, petals finally decaying. Moisture dampened her from head to toe, body quivering helplessly.

The inevitable thud from the trapdoor closing broke her from the daze she unknowingly found herself in, glancing up at the noise.

Her skin was pale, white as paper, and just as fragile. Traces of tears were displayed on her rosy cheeks, her nose covered in a blotch of red, irritated from constant friction. Waves of terror washed over the pools of her eyes.

How did this happen? The poor black cat had never seen anything that hinted she could be in her current state right now, and his heart wrenched. What had he not noticed?

A fire started in her eyes, a flame so small and innocent he was sure it could be doused with a glass of water. Her hand made its way over to the nearest object, its trajectory locked on one target.

“Wh-“ swiftly, he avoided the item, paper splaying across the floor, the pink cover lying on its back.

Whipping his head up, he looked at the girl. “Marinette, what’s wrong?! What’s going on-“ 

Her sobs intensified, clutching the soft pink sheets like a lifeline. She curled in on herself as tears dripped onto her clothes.

Her hands shook, pale and blue. She slowly tented her face with her small hands, curling in and away from the world.

“I’m so sorry, kitty.” she pleaded. Chat Noir’s gaze softened.

Slowly, gently, the boy sat atop her bed, trying to give the distraught girl her space, as if she were as fragile as a vase. Chat had never seen such a sight from anyone, let alone the sweet, determined girl from his class who, apparently, just threw a spiral sketchbook at him. 

“Hey, shh, shh. It’s okay Marinette, I’m here.” he scooted closer, opening his arms for a hug. He didn’t want to startle the girl, regardless of how much he yearned for her embrace.

Her lips wobbled, and the cliff she tried so hard to balance on finally collapsed. In a split second, she pounced into the black cat’s arms, a muffled ‘oof!’ escaping him. 

Glancing down, he saw how the girl’s face was buried into his chest, nuzzling the leather of his catsuit. Her shaky fingers trailed down his spine and he shivered. His arms tightened around her small frame, like a wrench supporting a bolt.

Her grip weakened and she felt her lungs replenish with oxygen, her gasps easing into small sighs.

“Princess,” he purred softly, “what happened?”

She pulled back, only slightly - her bluebell eyes greeting his catlike ones. She let out a stuttered sigh, her face softening.

“Just a bad dream, kitty. I’m okay.”

He raised an eyebrow, pulling back, clutching his hands on her shoulders. Did she say she was... okay? After all of that?

“Princess, I know you would never attack me. I don’t know what happened, and I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but it won’t stop me from worrying. I just want you to be safe.”

Marinette’s heart swelled, skipping a beat. She smiled, leaning back into his embrace. Clawed nails tenderly combed their way through her midnight locks, purrs rumbling through his chest. Patiently, he waited for her breathing to even. She let out soft snores, soft raven locks splayed across his super suit. Chat swore right then and there that he would continue to do everything he could to protect this girl.

For the rest of the night, he held the small girl tightly in his grasp, and he often found himself admiring her. He studied the moonlight that beamed onto her pale skin, mentally tracing the freckles that peppered her face. It was only when she stirred and morning rose that he carefully rested the snoring girl atop her pillow.

Smiling down at the pigtailed girl before him, he readied himself to exit through the trapdoor, hoping that he’d make it home in time to avoid Nathalie’s scolding. Letting out a content sigh, his eyes trailed to the end of the bed, a pink spiral notebook catching his attention. His breath hitched, eyes widening.

There, at the end of the bed, an arctic wasteland lied in the form of torn paper and scribbles. Stabbed through the paper like a dull dagger with no purpose were two words, one name, and a memory one could never forget:

**“CHAT BLANC”**


	2. une descente dans le maelström

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Like a volcano concealed beneath the ocean floor, her sunken eyes blew over with smoke. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t okay._  
>    
> Adrien investigates what that drawing of a white Chat Noir meant. Marinette finds out.

Ladybug has been acting strange.

When called to patrol, she comes, but the amount of time they converse is minimal. There’s no more impromptu ‘patrols,’ where the two swore it was just duty, knowing fully well the company of the other was all they truly wanted. No longer do they bask under the moonlight, fresh hot cocoa clasped in their gloved hands as they bantered beneath the stars.

The ray of hope he’d found had grown duller; a flickering lightbulb in a half-lit room.

A chime of _“Miraculous Ladybug!”_ reverberated through the air, arrays of ladybugs gliding through the sky. The effect never failed to amaze him, he knows, but all he can do is look at his beloved lady.

Like a volcano concealed beneath the ocean floor, her sunken eyes blew over with smoke. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t okay.

Marinette readied her yo-yo, ready to take off before she felt something land on her shoulder.

“Milady, wait!”

She craned her neck, looking into her chaton’s eyes, studying; as if she were searching for something. Shaking off the thought, she was at full attention now, standing tall in front of her chaton, like a classic Ladybug.

“What is it, Chat? I only have a few minutes left until-“

“Please, milady.”

He gazed into her eyes, so full and earnest, as if she were the only person in the world — the intensity gave her shivers. He truly was too good for her.  
“Okay, fine.” she conceded, relieving a sigh,

“Milady... what’s wrong? Please don’t hide it from me. If it’s something I did, I’ll do my best to fix it. I don’t want to hurt you-“

His voice was wavering. Vulnerable, tender eyes peering through hers as if he was bearing his soul. Her heart shattered — did she do this to her poor kitty?

“Oh my god, no, Chaton.” her voice wavering, she practically pounced onto him, arms outstretched as they wrapped around him in a binding embrace, “I could never be mad at you. You’re wonderful, okay? I... I just-“ she choked,

“I need some time. There’s just been a lot going on recently and—“ she sighed, “I love you, Chat. You’re my best friend, that will never change. Please believe me.”  
Pulling away, she focused on his face, raising her spotted glove to gently caress his cheek. Her smile like a fireplace on a cold winter evening— tender and comforting. A smile graced his face.

“Now, come on, chaton. I’m purr-etty sure you’ve got quite the hangry kwami waiting for you, non?” her third timer beeped. “On second thought, I do too.” she let out a soft, heartfelt giggle, for the first time in what felt like ages- for both her and Chat.

“Au revoir, Chat Noir!” she unleashed her yo-yo, and soon enough, she was gone.

Despite everything, the lovestruck boy couldn’t help but sigh.  
“...Au revoir, milady. Wait, was that a cat pun?!

—

It was not until dawn broke the shackles of the neverending sky the following day did Adrien see her again. The light whisked through the dew of puffed rosemary bushes, as the morning doves twirled their feathers toward the heavens. Reaching his class, he examined the girl in front of him.

Radiant dark blue hair, now utterly lifeless -- from an over-abundance of dry shampoo, he assumes. Her bluebell eyes instead glazed with a ghastly overlay of a midnight sea, its previous firm and confident charm weaning from the depths of the ocean floor onto the sand. An unfixed seam was visible down the stitching of her thigh, one the usual Marinette would spend the day obsessively fretting over. She’d curse how her outfit was “ruined”, most likely accompanied by paranoid self-deprecation about how she would never be able to impress his father _‘or never become a fashion designer and die in poverty, alone’_ because of it.

(The thought almost made him chuckle.)

Intangible portraits of the girl danced in his mind as he felt ichor pump through his veins and into his heart. He missed the girl, Marinette in her entirety, the one who he could embrace at night, followed by only the moonlight as he lulled words of affirmation in her ears. The blond cursed himself for the (purely platonic!) gratification that ran through him as he recalled her warmth melting into his embrace; her strawberry-scented shampoo filled his senses-

 _‘No, Adrien.’_ he internally scolded, _‘Bad Adrien.’_

By noontide, Adrien had already finished his assigned work -- rather, his mind favored rapping at the oak beneath, index finger landing rhythmic assaults upon the desk. It soon became apparent, however, that his absent mind proved to be quite a bother, as Nino’s periodic glimpses heightened his ever-growing anxiety.

Not soon enough, he mused, a rapid high-pitched shrill stirred the boy from his thoughts, signaling the end of the hour and introducing lunch. Today, however, was an unusual one-off for the boy; of which Nathalie did not schedule him to come home to eat, and his friends were occupied with unfinished work or using the time to catnap.

He turned toward his backpack, reluctantly grabbing the model-friendly lunch his father’s personal chefs prepared him -- crafted to perfection, professional from the slices of ripe cucumber down to the carefully cut ham, but its lack of warmth never failed to faintly tug at his heartstrings. 

A longing sigh escaped his lips, but as he moved to face his desk, something familiar caught his eye. Sheets of white clasped inside a pink spiral sketchbook stuck itself into his peripheral vision, a familiar curiosity bubbling warm in his stomach. The inclination to peer over that desk, to study the ghastly pencil work that drove their everyday Ladybug down the drain of sorrow, overwhelmed his senses. And so there was he, hastily scrambling to stand directly above it. His breath hitched.

Evergreen eyes strained as they peered through the paper, tracing every stroke of graphite etched into the page; the shaky lines shaping Chat’s eyes, colored blue in what he assumed to be watercolor marker. He examined the hastily shaded atmosphere around him, the subtle texture of his suit, and stark white hair. His trembling fingers flipped the page slowly, another batch following — a ravaged Eiffel Tower, an abandoned ocean, and...

His lady, plummeting down, further down- away from the monster that followed. He bared his razor-sharp fangs, like dazzling stalagmites in the depths of an abandoned cave. Grotesque, harrowing celeste eyes painted a scowl clear as day, honed claws yearning for its prey. What caught him the most of all, however, had to be the stabs of ink scattered across the page, spelling five, simple words that coursed through his blood like dry ice doused in boiling water:

**“You’re breaking my heart, Marinette!”**

His lady. Marinette. A snow-white reflection of him. Was this it? She was supposed to be the everyday Ladybug, the civilian Ladybug, but had he misinterpreted her? Could she be-

But before he could ponder it any longer, the bell rang, and his classmates slowly began to tumble in. Shaking his head free of thought, he rested the sketchbook on her desk and turned his attention to class.

\--

The ride home was uneventful for Adrien. Gorilla had been standing out in front of the school gates by the time the last hour of the day was even finished, leaving him no time to bid his friends goodbye.

The day moved on painfully slow. Nonchalantly, he felt as if he were just riding the current, which wasn’t a bad thing. No, not today-- he didn’t want to be left in the solitude of his thought any longer. As dismaying it is being your father’s cash-grab, it does have its perks.

After cramming for his algebra exam for two hours straight, Nathalie informed him of his dismissal and he was escorted back to his room. His back collided with his bed, eyes closing shut. Soon, his mind was invaded with memories of that dreaded sketchbook. Selfishly, he acknowledged that his inquiry now stemmed beyond his original worries; an added desire to satiate his curiosity.

‘Maybe I should talk to Ladybug about it — she’d know what to do.’

Vaulting across rooftops, the boy rode the breeze’s riptide toward their usual meetup spot, tasting the freedom the wind briefly awarded him. Coming into view was a red-spotted super-heroine, her appearance sooner than he expected — weird, he was usually the first to arrive. With one more vault, he landed on the rooftop.

“Good evening, bugaboo!” he curtsied, provoking a giggle from the ravenette.

“Good evening, kitty.” she scooted a box of cookies his way, his face lighting up.

“For me? Bugaboo, you didn’t have to!” she knew he was joking, but it didn’t make it any less ridiculous — the cookies were packed full of sugar, courtesy of her foolishly deciding to pour the sugar in straight from the bag sans measuring cup.  
“Silly, it’s for both of us. I thought we both deserved it.” she faced him, face stern, yet caring. “Now, what’s wrong?”

Marinette watched his muscles tense as her callused hands lay across his. He felt naked, like she had seen through him, right to his core; vulnerability had never been a welcome concept to Adrien, but...

This was too much.

The horizon captured his eyes instead; anything other than Ladybug’s face. Not now.

“A friend...” he licked his lips, “I was in school, it was during lunch, and the girl behind me — my uh, friend — she’s an artist, and I saw her sketchbook lying there.

I was curious about what she’d been drawing. And as I flipped through the pages, I saw some really... harrowing stuff. There was me — Chat Noir me, not civilian me, and I was this terrifying monster. Instead of green eyes I had blue and my suit was white—“ an unsteady breath escaped his mouth,  
“I guess it’s just been bothering me. Stupid, right?” he let out a chuckle, grateful that he could let out how he’d truly felt all day.

The sensation of nails digging into skin roused him from his thoughts, the touch of enamel buried itself into his gloved hand. In that moment, his stomach churned as he focused his gaze on her.

Frame quivering, tremors wracking her muscles, toward her psyche — ripples forming further into the depth he already knew. Any semblance of tranquility abandoning her face, she found her legs forcing herself stand, while a code red fried her brain. ‘Run away,’ it said, but instead, she pointed at the boy in front of her - Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir.

“You MUST forget about that. Forget. _Forgetforgetforget._ **NOW.** ”

Adrien could no longer conceal his astonishment, his mouth slightly parted, all of the words he wished to say fell silent in his throat.

“Milady--“

_“Apologize to her. Apologize to her NOW.” ___

__“Listen, mila—“_ _

__“She must be hurt! You should apologize —“_ _

__Her breathing grew quicker, faster, and before she knew it- her eyes were covered in spots, dancing to no rhythm._ _

__“I— I have to go.” she wheezed,_ _

__“Ladybu—“_ _

__Extending her yo-yo, she glided across Paris, desperately clinging to every building she could. Her own skin felt too hot, too cold- her heart leaped, beating to its own drum endlessly. It was so close, her home, she could—_ _

__Falling. She was falling. Metal colliding with bone, she ricocheted onto the concrete below, static working its way through her nerves. Her head fell to the side, her vision slowly darkening. A high pitched voice called her name, a broken vibrato echoing through the dark alleyway. A sound pierced her eardrums, but she couldn’t care. She kept falling, sobbing, plummeting further into the abyss._ _

__Adrien Agreste, supermodel and son of fashion icon Gabriel Agreste, always prided himself on his respect for others. When Ladybug didn’t want to reveal herself, he respected that. He, of course, wanted to- but he would never violate her trust. Not ever._ _

__He should’ve stayed back._ _

__He should have never learned Ladybug was Marinette Dupain-Cheng._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i may make minimal changes regarding prose throughout the story (mostly fixing wording) as this is my first multi-chapter fanfic... ever, i think.
> 
> i'm still new to _consistently_ writing but i hope you're all enjoying the story so far!  
> i don't know how many chapters this series will have. maybe around 3-4? i'll see! i don't do outlines. i just. wing it HAHA
> 
> if you guys are curious about the characterization- i think marinette, being 15 years old, wouldn't have a grasp on what to do with her trauma -- let alone let people know about memories she still doesn't know how to cope with. i made her display more of the uncommon symptoms of trauma like irritability on purpose. she's a bit more frantic and doesn't know what to do. and honestly, while writing this i made her display some characteristics of autism that i live with so uh. sorry about that, i'm a noob- hopefully i can do better next time. even so- autistic marinette dupain-cheng anyone? haha
> 
> i would like to also note that i am not trying to portray an accurate representation of PTSD as a mental illness in and of itself. as i do not feel comfortable consciously portraying an illness i do not live with, so i didn't tag this as PTSD. if you do see this as PTSD, **please don’t let me stop you!** this is my interpretation of how i think she'd feel and how i'd feel, too. i wanted to add a more human aspect to her character and delve into how chat blanc would affect her if written in a way that contributed to marinette as a person, rather than just another episode.
> 
> this has been a really long note so i'll stop. but if you're curious, the titles of each chapter are inspired by different edgar allan poe stories cause i'm a dweeb HAHA  
> also if ur wondering about le papillon.. hm :)
> 
> thanks for reading; i hope you enjoy!!


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